


Thicker Than Water

by junsnow



Series: A Feast of Kinks [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Breeding, Breeding Kink, Canon Divergence, Cousin Incest, F/M, Jon is betrothed to Daenerys, Jonsa Kink Week, Sansa is betrothed to fAegon, Secret Affair, Set in King's Landing, Smut, Sneaking Around, affair, because that would complicate things and this is just porn ok, jonsakinkweek, though I’m not really going into Jon’s parentage, very little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 05:07:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13563477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junsnow/pseuds/junsnow
Summary: This is all Jon’s fault, she grumbled.If he hadn’t come to my bed every single night since we left Winterfell, I might still have some moon tea left.Of course, she had more than enjoyed his nightly visits, but that was beside the point. Just as ever, the Red Keep was a pit of snakes, and the walls had ears. Procuring moon tea, even in secret, was risking whispers, and a highborn lady like herself could not have that. Especially since she was betrothed to another, the prince Aegon Targaryen.-Day 3: Breeding





	Thicker Than Water

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Lizzie and Josiah for helping me with your ideas!

Sansa fumbled through her belongings, desperately seeking the leaves for her moon tea, to no avail. She had packed a considerable amount for her travel south, hoping it was enough to last not only the journey, but also for the duration of her stay in King’s Landing. It seems she was wrong, obviously, and she had consumed the very last of it the day before.

 

She sighed, frustrated. _This is all Jon’s fault_ , she grumbled. _If he hadn’t come to my bed every single night since we left Winterfell, I might still have some moon tea left._ Of course, she had more than enjoyed his nightly visits, but that was beside the point. Just as ever, the Red Keep was a pit of snakes, and the walls had ears. Procuring moon tea, even in secret, was risking whispers, and a highborn lady like herself could not have that. Especially since she was betrothed to another, the prince Aegon Targaryen.

 

If word got out that she had need of moon tea, people would be quick to suspect her and Jon, with how fondly her cousin treated her, even in public. For all she knew, there could be rumors being spun already, and with him also betrothed to another—the dragon queen herself—and both their marriages expected to unite the North and the South, it was a dangerous game to play.

 

Sansa shuddered to think of the consequences. The queen was a proud woman; Sansa had learned that in under a week as her guest, and if she knew of her and Jon’s trysts behind her back, she could burn them both alive in one of her tantrums.

 

This left them in quite the predicament. She could not acquire any moon tea in this city where she trusted no one but Jon and herself, but the thought of stopping their nightly encounters was unthinkable. She hated the capital, hated being forced to dwell in the wretched place again until her wedding to Aegon transpired the next week. Jon’s company was her solace, her silver lining. Sansa needed him, more than words could say. Perhaps if they were careful, if Jon were to pull out before he spilled his seed inside her…

 

Something about the idea rankled her. She _liked it_ when Jon spilled inside her; it was her favorite part. Without her moon tea, though, there was nothing stopping his seed from taking root.

 

A series of images came to Sansa’s mind, unbidden—Jon fucking her, deliciously hard, and then filling her with his seed; her belly swelling for months until she gave birth to a dark-haired babe with grey eyes and the long face of the Starks. A shiver raked her body, so strong it left no doubt in her mind—she wanted it. She wanted her child to be Jon’s, not Aegon’s.

 

It was not that her future husband was particularly unpleasant or even hard on the eyes—quite the opposite, actually, he was perfectly adequate; handsome, tall, with the gallantry and good manners you’d expect from a prince of a noble house. Perhaps that was the problem: Aegon was _too perfect_ , with his fine silver hair and his light purple eyes. It was dark hair and grey eyes she longed for—Jon’s messy curls and scruffy beard and rough edges.

 

If she had to be married off in a peace treaty like a broodmare, with the duty of providing sons, why couldn’t they be Jon’s? She’d heard the dragon queen was barren, and didn’t Jon deserve sons of his own? Didn’t the Stark line deserve to go on, unmarred, their wolfblood untainted by the dragons? Sansa knew the answer in her heart.  

 

***

 

It was getting late, and Jon would be knocking on her door any moment now. She’d barely managed to keep her eyes from her lover during supper, feeling her blood sing with her need for him. Everything in her was preparing for the moment he would finally take her, as he did every night, but tonight was different; tonight, she would have him spill his seed inside of her, and there would be nothing stopping it from quickening her womb.

 

Sansa had trembled with anticipation, squeezing her thighs together under the ornate table they feasted on. Her excitement was made all the greater by the fact that no one around her knew what they’d be doing. None except Jon, who would occasionally send her a heated look over his goblet, sending a flood of wetness straight to her cunt.

 

She sat in front of the vanity table, brushing her hair from the braids she wore during the day—northern style, even here in the south—leaving her copper tresses loose around her shoulders, just how Jon liked it. She’d forgone a nightgown, deciding to wait for him naked in the silken sheets of her bed, such was her urgency, her rush to have him.

 

Jon did not keep her waiting long; he knocked four times on the door, in the secret rhythm they had come up with together, and walked into the room. Sansa relished his reaction, the way his eyes widened before darkening, how his tongue slipped out briefly to lick at his bottom lip. His attention was the only thing she wanted—no one else’s could please her this much.

 

“Sansa,” he breathed out in that gruff tone of his, making her spread her legs subconsciously.

 

He crossed the distance in a flash, climbing above her to lavish her body with kisses. His mouth followed a trail from her mouth, to her neck, her breasts, and down, down… all the way to her cunt. Sansa keened when his tongue swirled around her clit, and again, louder when his lips attached themselves to the little nub and _sucked_.

 

“Jon,” she whined, running her fingers through his curls, “please, I need you…”

 

Not only does he not relent; Sansa feels him groan against her core before he pushes two fingers inside and starts curling them against her walls. She cries out, head reeling from the pleasure but still eager for more, for the moment he finally—

 

“Fuck me, _ahh, Jon!_ I need your cock!” She nearly shouts into the room, praying to the Old Gods and The New that no one happened to be passing by her chambers at that moment.

 

He looks up at her from between her legs, grey eyes nearly black with how much his pupils had dilated. His mouth unlatches from her so he can ask, petulantly, “Don’t you like me eating your cunt, Sansa?”

 

She does. She _really_ does, but all she can think about is him, filling her with his seed, putting a babe in her before her future husband could. Before her mind can form any words as a response, his tongue is back at it, lavishly licking at her folds.

 

“I want to make you cum like this, first. I want to taste you on my tongue. _Mmm_ , you taste so good, Sansa... Then you can have my cock. I’ll fuck you all night if you want to, you know I will.” He murmurs against her, and then he’s sucking and nipping and laving at her again, all while moaning his own pleasure at her taste, and it’s too much—she breaks, tugging harder on his hair as she finds her peak.

 

Jon gives her a few more licks, humming in satisfaction, before he climbs above her. His lips are swollen and wet when he claims hers, and the heady taste of them carries her own essence. Sansa reaches for his cock, stroking him before he settles at her entrance, and then Jon pushes in, _finally_ , stretching her fully and slowly.

 

He grits his teeth, as he always does when he first enters her, and Sansa admires the ridges of his face, raising her hands to lightly scrape his beard.

 

“Gods, Sansa. How do you fit me so perfectly?” His hips start moving, and she follows in tandem, opening her legs wider and wrapping around him.

 

“Jon. I’m out of moon tea,” she confesses, breathlessly.

 

He nods, unbothered. “It’s alright, love, I’ll pull out,” he assures her, maintaining the timing of his thrusts.

 

Sansa takes a deep breath.

 

“I don’t want you to.”

 

Jon’s movements still, making her whine.

 

“What?” He asks, eyes wide and staring into hers.

 

“I want you to spend inside me,” she says, biting her lips. “I want to carry _your_ sons, not Aegon’s.”

 

“Sansa…” He stares at her, dumbfounded, and Sansa can’t take it.

 

“Please, Jon.” She squeezes around him, begging him with all she has—her cunt, her words, her eyes. “I don’t silver-haired children; I want them to be _Starks_ , like you and me. I know you want it too, and your intended can’t give you that, but I can. So _let_ _me_. Let me give you sons. Put a babe in me, Jon.”

 

Sansa is scared he is going to refuse her, with how tensely he holds in his breath. But then he growls his assent, resuming his thrusting with a new-found vigor that leaves her gasping.

 

“Wait!” She pushes at his chest, suddenly, as an idea takes hold of her. “Take me like a wolf.” She purrs.

 

“ _Fuck_ , Sansa.” Jon obliges, turning her around so she can settle on her hands and knees. “Anything you want—my seed, my heart; it’s yours, it’s all yours.” He sinks into her again, tightly grasping her hips as he does, and Sansa pushes back in time, eagerly taking him in as deep as he can go.

 

 

He slaps one ass cheek, then squeezes the soft, pink skin, and Sansa moans in response.

 

“ _Ahhn_ , yes, Jon, yes! Harder, like that!” She sobs, and he does it again, for her wild enjoyment.

 

The bed creaks with their frantic movements, accompanied by the sounds of their sweat-glazed skin slapping against each other. Sansa feels herself going mad with each delicious slide of his cock, lost in a cloud of heat and pleasure and _Jon_. She feels her second peak coming, building rapidly in her belly.

 

“You want my seed, Sansa?” He grasps her hair as he asks, his thrusts becoming more hectic.

 

“Yes, cum inside me, Jon, fill me up, _please!_ ”

 

“ _Ummpf_ , I’m gonna cum inside your sweet cunt, Sansa. Gonna spill inside you until you can’t take it anymore, until your belly swells with my babe, and Aegon, _poor Aegon_ , will never know, will never get to have you like this.” He grunts. “You’re _mine_ , Sansa. All your babes will be mine.”

 

“ _Yes!_ ” She cries out, “I’m yours, Jon. All yours…Jon… _Jon!_ ”

 

He shatters a fraction of a moment before she does, her name spilling from his lips just as his seed spurts from his cock. It triggers the strongest climax she’d ever felt, and Sansa’s hips move of their own accord, milking him for every drop of his warm cum. She feels engulfed by a white-hot feeling, a sweet burning in her loins, but most of all, she feels _whole_.


End file.
